Jack and Merida: A Story
by Easysun
Summary: We see how a relationship develops between Jack Frost, an immortal winter spirit, and Merida, a fiery teenage princess, through first encounters, adventures, and surprises.


**Hey guys. This is for anyone who can appreciate the Jack Frost/Merida relationship.**

 **Creative title, I know.**

 **Something you need to know: in this story, Jack becomes Jack Frost not long before Merida is born. You're going to have to except that in order to obtain any satisfaction from this.**

 **In writing this story, my main goal is to portray the characters how I feel they would behave and respond.**

 **So if you're hoping for lovey-dovey fluff around every corner, this may not be the tale for you.**

 **Regardless, I hope that those of you who do decide to read, enjoy.**

 **First chapter's a bit long, so bear with me (no pun intended)**

 **Thanks, guys!**

* * *

"Now, hold still you little rascal," the Queen laughed as she tried to secure the cloak around her daughter's tiny frame. Despite her mother's plea, however, the young girl couldn't stop herself from jumping around and slowly inching towards the door.

Noticing the child's latest attempt at escaping, Eleanor quickly pulled the girl into her embrace and tickled her stomach, which was met by excited squeals and giggles.

"You're not going anywhere without being dressed, so it does no good to fuss."

The young girl looked up to her mother with bright turquoise eyes. "But I want to go outside, Mummy, before it stops."

Eleanor planted a quick kiss on the girl's nose. "Darling, the snow will still be there when you go outside." It's true that the child expressed her desire to go out as soon as she realized that it was snowing, but there's no way her mother was letting her in the cold without the appropriate attire. Winter could be particularly harsh in Scotland.

The queen smiled as she wrapped the cloak around her daughter and tucked her hair under the hood (which was a task easier said than done). Eleanor chuckled lightly. Only six years old, and already the girl had so much hair—wild, fiery curls that, even at this very moment, longed to break free from the barrier that tried to control them. 'Just like her father,' she thought. King Fergus was a strong, wide man, but his red hair was just as untamed as his daughter's. Eleanor, herself, had straight, dark brown hair, which admittedly was quite convenient when it came to keeping up appearances—she was the Queen, after all.

When she was certain that her mother was done dressing her, Merida quickly moved away and grabbed for her bow and quiver, which her mother had unfortunately set on a shelf high above her reach. When she realized that her attempts were feeble at best, she began trying to scale the wall.

Eleanor sighed when she realized what her daughter wanted. Fergus had given Merida the small bow for her birthday—against the queen's approval. After all, Merida was a princess and a lady—one who should not be given weapons of any kind. She managed to convince herself, however, that Merida's excitement over this new bow was surely short-lived, and—as is the case with most children—would quickly lose her child's attention.

Unfortunately for Eleanor, however, Merida's birthday had an unwelcomed visitor. The demon bear, Mor'du, had followed Merida back to their campsite and attacked. Eleanor quickly rode back to the castle with her daughter, as Fergus and his men took on the beast. Thankfully, everyone survived the attack, though Fergus did lose his leg to the demon bear, and ever since then, Merida strongly insisted on practicing archery every day.

"Why don't you go outside, and you can practice a different day," she calmly said.

At these words, Merida immediately stopped climbing and ran over to her mother. Clutching Eleanor's dress, with a small pout on her face, she said, "Pleeeeease Mummy! I'm getting really good. I just need to practice a wee bit more. Can I have my bow, please, can I?"

Eleanor sighed heavily, but she grabbed the bow and quiver and placed them in her daughter's small hands. "Just be careful, dear." Merida hugged her mother tightly, and with her bow in grasp and her quiver strapped over her shoulder, went for the door. The tiny child nearly toppled into the snow when her mother opened the door for her, but, regaining her footing, happily ran outside with her face turned up towards the sky, gratefully accepting any flakes that chose her as their destination.

"Remember to stay in sight, Merida!" Eleanor called after her. The young girl turned towards the call, already with rosy cheeks, but too cheerful to notice or care at the moment. "Yes, Mummy, I will!" she responded back, and with that Queen Eleanor shut the door.

Free from her mother's watchful eye, Merida proceeded to run through the white blanket that was quickly accumulating beneath her feet. When she came to a space that she dubbed satisfactory, she retrieved an arrow out of her quiver—her father had graciously given it to her so that she could practice—and loaded her bow the way Fergus had taught her. Making sure to keep both eyes open, she drew the arrow all the way back to her cheek. Admittedly, she had been having the most difficulty with this part, for, though spirited as she was, Merida did not yet possess the strength that a skilled archer required, and therefore pulling back the tightly strung cord was a strenuous task, indeed. She had just barely managed to keep the string in place when she realized something, and lowered her weapon altogether. Her father had told her that as long as she kept her eyes on the target, she couldn't miss. Well, what was she aiming for right now? Suddenly filled with inspiration and propelled by the energy that lives within most six-year-olds, she carefully set aside her bow and began building.

* * *

Less than a mile away, comfortably perched on the branch of a tree, sat a boy who, from his appearance, could not have been more than 17 years of age. Those who saw this boy would find him very peculiar indeed. Beneath his modest clothing—brown pants, vest, and a cloak—his skin was unnaturally pale, as it is for those poor souls from whom winter takes any slightest trace of warmth before they succumb to the harsh cold. But this young man was not on the brink of death. One could even call him lively, with a playful smirk and a hint of amusement in his eyes—icy blue, though those eyes may be. He had a good head of hair on him, though despite his youth, it took on a striking silver color, suggesting wisdom beyond his years. He casually held a shepherd's staff as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and, despite the fierce cold that surrounded him, and the snow that covered the ground and the trees, this boy could be marked by a distinct lack of footwear.

Again, anyone who saw him would find him very peculiar, indeed.

But this boy hadn't been seen by anyone in over a decade.

He didn't know much, this boy, except for what the moon had told him, but that was quite some time ago. His name was Jack Frost, he knew that much. Through his own experience, he found that he could fly, and with his staff, he could create snow, frost, and ice. Basically, he could control the winter weather, which he loved. He loved throwing snowballs at people when they weren't looking and making frost patterns on windows, but he hated that no one ever knew that he did these things. Very quickly he learned that—though he could see everything and everyone around him—people could not see him. He didn't know why. He felt solid—he could pick things up, and it's not like he could walk through walls. He flew from place to place in the hopes that someone would be able to see him, but everyone he tried to contact simply passed right through him—like a ghost. Ten years had passed, and that's all he had ever been.

He wasn't a sad boy, though, and ten years can go by pretty quickly when you live forever. Through the years, Jack had become aware of his own immortality—that his current situation was something that he should learn to accept, and for the most part, he did just that. He loved flying, and he always joined in when he saw children playing in the snow (he was even one to start a snowball fight here and there). He would often sit around campfires or outside windows listening to the stories that people told and shared. So, although no one knew he was there, Jack could usually convince himself that he wasn't alone.

This was surprisingly his first trip to Scotland. From what he gathered from overheard conversations, this was the kingdom of DunBroch, ruled by the beloved King Fergus and Queen Eleanor. Jack had scoped the place out, but there was a surprising lack of children. He realized that most people tried to avoid the cold when they could, but from his experience, children usually loved to be outside when it was snowing. He stayed around the village long enough to realize that no one could see him. He found himself freezing the locks on doors out of spite—nothing too bad—just a little harmless fun. Regardless, he still went back each time to undo any damage he caused.

He figured it was about time he headed home. Home…a strange concept for him to think about. He didn't really live anywhere. He went wherever the wind took him, quite literally. Despite his shift from place to place, however, Jack for some reason always managed to drift back to the same place day after day: Burgess. He didn't know why exactly. On a frozen lake in Burgess was where the moon had spoken to Jack. Really, as far as he knew, it was the first and last time anyone had spoken to him. Jack tried speaking to the moon quite a few times since—really, he did—but no matter how hard he begged to be heard, he never got an answer. Still, he always went back to Burgess. It was the closest thing he had to a home.

Leaning on his staff, Jack gracefully stood up from his spot on the branch and sighed.

"A guy can really only take so much of that accent anyway." he chuckled softly. "And don't even get me started on whatever haggis is." With that, he turned his head toward the open sky. "Hey Wind! What do you say? Can you take me home?" Feeling a sudden rush before him, the boy graciously jumped forward and was carried high into the air.

Jack could fly on his own, but when it came to these long distance trips, he had a terrible sense of direction. The wind, on the other hand, could be everywhere at once. It always knew the quickest and most efficient route from any location in the world. It couldn't exactly hold a conversation, but Jack was grateful to have discovered that something, if not someone, listened to him.

From the sky, Castle DunBroch was pretty impressive—massive and built entirely from stone. All of the houses in Burgess were modest and simple, but he liked that about it. Truth be told, he never really saw a need for the accessories of a sophisticated and elegant lifestyle that some people liked to boast about.

A voice caused Jack to slow down. He couldn't make out what it was saying—if anything it resembled that of a fierce battle cry—but it was clear that the voice belonged to a child. When he looked down, Jack's eyes immediately locked on a mass of fiery red. As he drew closer, he saw that the voice did indeed belong to a young girl, whose fiery curls were soaked from the falling snow that had now ceased. She wore a dark cloak, held a small bow, and strapped around her shoulder was a quiver. About ten feet in front of her was the creation the little girl had sculpted so passionately. Judging by the multiple rock shaped fangs in the snow creature's mouth, Jack could only assume that this was some kind of monster, and…were those horns or ears on its head? Either way, Jack could appreciate the effort that went into it.

When he landed behind the girl, she was in the process of loading her last arrow into the bow (she hadn't been having much luck with hitting her target). She narrowed her eyes and spoke quietly and harshly to the monster she created, "Come on, you beast."

Meanwhile, Jack stood just behind. He found this situation very interesting—how determined the little girl seemed, and how much she seemed to despise this beast in front of her. Jack leaned casually on his staff with an amused glint in his eyes.

"I hope, for this guy's sake, he deserves to be shot with an arrow."

Surprised by the unexpected voice, Merida quickly turned around and, seeing a boy before her, pushed him back. Jack, clearly not expecting this response, did actually stumble back a few steps from the girl's small force.

"Look out!" she yelled to the boy, while she quickly reloaded her arrow and shot at the snow monster. Unfortunately, this arrow was no luckier than any of the others, and veered off to the right away from the target.

"He's too fast!" she exclaimed. As her mother refused to agree to her possessing a sword of any kind, Merida proceeded to charge at the monster with a branch she had found close by, hitting it repeatedly while crying out phrases like, "Is that the best you got?"

All the while this action packed battle was going on, Jack continued to stand bewildered, his eyes wide with shock. Finally regaining his ability to speak, he took a couple steps forward towards the small warrior.

"You—you can see me?" he asked, almost desperately.

Remembering that she wasn't alone, Merida ran back towards the boy, out of breath from fighting.

"Are ye just going to stand there like a wee babby, or are ye going to fight?" she breathed out as she pointed to the beast.

Jack couldn't believe it—that she could see him, but she was so clearly speaking to him, and before…she pushed him…she actually pushed him. Her hands didn't pass through him like every other person he had ever seen or tried to contact. He didn't understand it. He looked at the mangled snow creature. There were quite a few clumps taken out of it, and it seemed a few teeth had fallen out as well, but regardless, it was still standing. He looked back to the young girl before him. Her eyes were a bright turquoise, and they shone with passion and a fierce determination. He may not have understood it, but she needed him right now.

"What do we do first?" he asked her, imitating the sense of urgency she had spoken with.

Merida tried to remain serious, but found it very difficult to keep herself from smiling when she realized that this boy was going along with her game.

"Keep the beast distracted while I get my arrows," she ordered.

Jack beamed. "One distraction coming right up."

Merida ran after her arrows (her mother had only allowed her to have five), and each time she picked one up, she looked over to the boy. He called the beast names and threw snowballs at it (with perfect aim, she noticed). He continued to jump around from place to place with boundless energy. Merida could barely focus on collecting because she was giggling so much, and though she didn't realize it, Jack saw her laughing, which encouraged him to act even crazier. When Merida picked up her last arrow, she ran back to the boy, and for a moment she thought he had disappeared when she didn't see him—that is, until she looked up and saw him flying around the snow bear she created.

Completely forgetting her arrows and her battle with the beast, Merida ran up to the boy, who was still in the air, her eyes wide with wonder.

"You can fly!" she exclaimed, jumping up to try to reach him.

Jack smirked. "What are you doing?" he asked. "You're supposed to be fighting this ugly guy."

Merida looked over to the ugly guy Jack was referring to and then quickly redirected her attention back on his flying form. She seemed unsure of what to do at first, because the boy was right—she had been focused on fighting Mor'du…but this wasn't really Mor'du…and this boy was _actually_ flying right now.

"It's alright," she pleaded. "He's not the real bear. I was just practicing."

Jack let out a light laugh. "Ha, so that's what it was. He must be a pretty scary bear." He looked over at the deformed creature missing nearly all its teeth with snow clumps poking out of its head.

His focus was brought back to the little girl below him when she asked, "Will you come down?" Jack quickly landed, and Merida wasted no time trying to unlock the mystery of his power. She held up his cloak in her hands, questioning if it somehow helped lift him off the ground. She poked his legs, which was answered with objections of "Woah" and "Hey" by the victim, and finally she settled on studying the very ground beneath his feet, until she realized something.

"You're not wearing shoes," she declared.

Jack just smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't need them," he said.

Merida furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips in a mixture of confusion and frustration, until finally she looked up at the boy and asked the question that was eating her up. "Why can you fly?"

For a moment Jack felt a little frustrated as well. "I don't really know," he said, partly to himself, but he quickly looked back at the young girl with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "But that's not all I can do."

Before Merida could respond, the boy firmly held his staff in front of him, and she watched as a bolt of ice shot forward and struck snow Mor'du head on, causing what was left of him to be completely destroyed. Merida gasped. For a moment, Jack was worried that he had frightened the little girl, but that fear was quickly put to rest when her voice rung out in laughter, and she began climbing up the staff that was still in Jack's hand. Jack laughed too when she made it all the way up to his eye level.

"It's magic!" she cheered with bright eyes.

Jack smiled. With his free hand, he fabricated a perfect snowflake out of what appeared to be thin air and propelled it forward. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of magic."

Merida saw this new wonder and slid down until she was on the ground again. She then found herself chasing after the snowflake that the magic boy created. When she was underneath it, she tilted her head up and reached upwards to try to catch it. The snowflake, however, avoided her grasp and instead landed directly on the redhead's nose. Merida blinked and her eyes widened, as she was suddenly struck with a realization.

Merida turned around to face the boy. "Jack Frost," she breathed out.

Jack was unsure at first if he heard the little girl correctly, and his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "What?" he said.

Merida couldn't contain her laughter as she ran towards him, nearly tripping over her dress in her excitement. "You're Jack Frost!" she nearly yelled.

Jack, on the other hand, found himself more confused than ever. "You know who I am?"

"That's where you get your magic! I know the stories—my mum told them to me."

Jack's confusion had yet to let up. "Stories?"

Merida smiled. "Aye, you bring winter, and you put frost on the windows, and…you made it snow before, didn't you?" she asked, delighted.

Jack breathed out a faint chuckle as he took in this information. All of those things were true. Yet, for ten years, he had been around the world, and he had never heard of any stories about Jack Frost. He didn't know that such things even existed. Here this little girl was, though, who listened to the stories, and who…who believed in them—believed in him. And he didn't even know her name.

"Merida!" The young red head briefly forgot her awe at the sound of her mother's voice. "Come on in, lass, it's time for supper!"

Merida ran up to Eleanor, smiling. She grabbed her hand, and pulled her out into the snow. The queen was unprepared for this action, and yanked at her dress as quickly as she could to prevent it from becoming as soaked through as her daughter clearly was. "Merida."

"Mummy, look, before he flies away!" Jack chuckled at that. Merida made it seem like he was a caged bird anxiously waiting for his chance to escape. When in reality, Jack had never wanted to stay in one place so much before in his entire life (or at least in the life he knew about).

"Before who flies away, dear?"

"Jack Frost!" He's right over there, see?"

Eleanor smiled, and looked to where Merida was pointing. Jack looked back, holding his breath, until he realized that it was a lost cause. Merida's mother may have been looking in his direction, but she didn't actually see him. Jack sighed, disappointed to see that there weren't more like Merida in this kingdom.

The queen knelt down in front of her fiery spirit of a daughter. "Jack Frost, hmm? Is he the one I should blame for ruining such a pretty little dress?"

For once, Merida looked down at the frock she was wearing, completely soaked through, with a few tears here and there. She cast a quick glance at Jack and then back at her mother. She pursed her lips for a moment before she spoke. "Mmmm. Yes."

"Hey!" she heard behind her—teasingly, of course. Jack was very amused by her response.

"Well, then, I'm going to have to have a stern talking with this fellow, won't I?" In one quick motion, Eleanor swept Merida up in her arms, arousing an excited squeal from the latter. "But right now, it's time for supper." She pretended to take bites out of her daughter as she walked back to the door.

Merida looked over her mother's shoulder as she was being carried, and waved enthusiastically at Jack Frost. He waved back, with a grin showing all of his teeth, as the first person who ever saw him returned to her normal life.


End file.
